


Closeted

by thatstarlitsky



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Busker Rocky, Fanboy Sanha, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, confident gay vs panicked gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 10:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatstarlitsky/pseuds/thatstarlitsky
Summary: His street performer name was Rocky, and he was everything Sanha wanted to be: confident, talented, and openly gay.





	Closeted

**Author's Note:**

> Rocky is All Light era’s bias wrecker – say Rocky Swag if you agree. He has been swerving me, so it’s time to get these feels out from the point of view of Sanha in an angsty, fluffy, pining filled Socky fanfic. ( this took me ages to write ;n; )  
> Kind of has some 'In A Heartbeat' vibes. I love that animated short, and the nervous red-haired boy was definitely the inspiration for a good portion of Sanha’s characterization in this.  
> Edited until the last idk 2000 words or something. I got tired. Wanted to upload this.  
> I hope you enjoy, loves! <3 Thanks for reading <3

The streets of Itaewon were just as crowded as they always were. Nervously, Sanha pulled the collar of his turtle neck sweater over his nose. He’d somehow managed to forget his dust mask back at his apartment. He’d considered just letting it go and entering Itaewon without hiding his face, but the fear of being potentially spotted by a classmate was impossible to shake. As far as he knew, nobody in any of his classes would be caught dead in the crowds surrounding the dancer, but Sanha’s worst nightmare was being exposed. And there were _a lot_ of cellphone cameras he could get caught on.

He called himself Rocky. Nobody knew his real name, or even what he did when he wasn’t dancing next to his speaker. Some part of Sanha wondered if they even cared, or if they simply saw him as a forbidden novelty – there to be enjoyed and admired, but never studied in fear of touching taboo.

Slipping into the back of the crowd, Sanha craned his neck over the heads of the other viewers. His view of Rocky wasn’t perfect, but he could see just enough. The dancer was clothed in black today, his ripped jeans showing a little too much thigh and a belt of gleaming silver chains swayed with each movement of his hips. The night was warm, allowing Rocky to wear a form-fitting tank top that hugged the not-too-subtle shape of his muscles. When he moved just right, Sanha could see a flash of abs before they vanished beneath the folds of the fabric once more. His arms were bare, save for a single black cuff on his left wrist, and they flexed tantalisingly with each, easy movement. His hair...Sanha always loved how Rocky styled his hair. Today it was windswept, as though he’d just climbed off of a motorcycle. His face was flushed with a touch of sweat, and pink lips gleamed where his tongue swept out to wet them when he needed to catch a breath.

Though Rocky stayed focused on his performance, Sanha noted that as always, his eyes were sweeping the crowd. He was waiting, just as he always did, to gather enough people. Rocky never hesitated; never for a second paused to consider what sort of thoughts his audience had of him. He ignored the hostility that sometimes came his way in the form of a half-empty can of some sticky liquid, or a ruthless jeer from the people Sanha feared the most.

Rocky was gay. Everyone in Itaewon had known it since the moment he caught the hand of one of his fanboys in the crowd and brought their lips so close together they were almost touching. The act had startled him back into his laughing girlfriend’s arms, but he’d shaken it off as some silly joke. Within a week, so had everyone else.

But Rocky had been serious, and the playful acts continued to the point where other gay men opted to join him, just for a chance to be free with themselves for a few moments. Sanha wished he could too. He wished he could be more like Rocky.

The song changed, and Rocky’s dancing slowed to a more sensual rhythm. The streetlights shone on him like a spotlight, and the growing crowd delighted in the elegant movements of his body. _Come join me_ , his expression said as his eyes lingered on the crowd, focusing one at a time on faces that caught his attention. There was laughter, followed by a cheer as one of the men in the front row was pushed into the light by a group of his friends. Rocky’s tongue was between his teeth, his eyes curled with his smile as he held his hand out, still a gentleman even with the low thrum of bass echoing through the street.

Sanha watched jealously as the man took Rocky’s hand and was swiftly swept into an intimate club dance. Rocky’s arm was draped around the man’s shoulders, his hand reaching up to hold his chin while a wicked grin spread over his face. The man was blushing, and his staggering feet exposed either his lack of skill, or the amount of soju he’d consumed that night. Rocky’s lips were close to his, and the crowd was screaming eagerly, hoping that maybe this time the dancer would actually kiss his partner. Sanha knew he wouldn’t. Rocky never did. But he couldn’t stop himself from imagining how his breath would feel against his lips.

The man’s hands gripped Rocky’s waist tightly, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of his shirt just enough to expose his hips. For the briefest of moments, Rocky humoured him before he twisted from his grip and pushed him back into the arms of his friends with an easy flick of his fingers. They slapped him on the back and held him up, since his legs had gone too weak to allow him to stand properly. Sanha knew the feeling. His knees started to shake as Rocky’s tongue licked over his lips, his dark eyes returning to the crowd.

Perhaps it was his height – or maybe Sanha’s fascination had shown a little more than he’d wanted it to. Sanha never stopped to ask _why_ when Rocky’s eyes met his. For a moment, they drifted away, but then they were back on his face, burning with an intensity that had Sanha going rigid. Rocky didn’t look away – Sanha wanted and also never wanted him to. A new grin filled Rocky’s lips, and he pointed through the crowd directly at Sanha. He felt the finger like an arrow to his chest, and in an instant, dozens of eyes turned to look at him. Too late, Sanha realized – his turtle neck had fallen down. Everyone could see his face. Rocky beckoned him, and a few hands reached for Sanha, urging him to come forward.

Fear filled him as though he’d been plunged into an icy lake and then immediately thrown into a bonfire. Rocky’s smile began to fade just as Sanha clutched his turtle neck back over his face and turned away. He hunched his shoulders and immediately bolted from the crowd. He heard voices to his left and right – people dodging away from him as he fled through the streets if Itaewon. In his mind, they were vicious words rather than exclamations of surprise that someone had nearly bumped into them.

Sanha didn’t stop until the thud of bass faded from his ears. The sound of Seoul’s traffic drowned out the echoes of voices and swirling waves of terror lingering in his chest. Sinking into the seat of a nearby bus stop, Sanha buried his face in his hands and cried.

He could never go back to Itaewon.

 

...

 

Rocky had an Instagram. Sanha had discovered it when he was desperate to learn more about the dancer after seeing him for the first time. He’d spent hours browsing Itaewon’s street dancers in an incognito tab, shooting glances at his bedroom door as though someone was peering through it at that moment and judging him for what he was searching.

Rocky’s account was dedicated to his performances, each one meticulously documented in a series of thirty-second highlight videos. Sometimes he wondered if the account had been made by a fan, or if Rocky himself ran the account and had someone else taking the footage. It was impossible to tell, but it was updated almost daily. These days, Sanha didn’t know whether to be glad for it.

It had been several weeks since Sanha had gone to Itaewon to see Rocky’s dance. He’d tried to shake it off, and even went as far as to temporarily unfollow the account before he realized it was a useless endeavour. He always found himself watching Rocky’s videos late into the night, his arms wrapped around his pillow. He must’ve looked like a fool that day in Itaewon. He wondered how Rocky must’ve felt. He didn’t call people into his spotlight often, and as far as Sanha knew, he was the first to reject his invitation.

 _I can’t be jealous,_ Sanha told himself, closing his eyes to block out the video of Rocky dancing with another stranger, this time dropping to his knees to run his hands up the man’s thighs. He was so confident in himself – so sure and certain in every movement he made. Sanha felt the tears prickle in his eyes. How did he do it? How did these other men do it? Sanha wished he could be like them, but when faced with an opportunity to embrace himself, he’d fled with his tail between his legs.

Sanha’s alarm went off far sooner than he would’ve liked that morning. Letting out a shaky sigh, he rolled out of bed and prayed for an easy school day. He had little time to wash his face properly and could only stuff a muffin into his mouth before he was dragging himself out of his shared apartment, wishing he had a later class like his roommate.

Sinking into his seat on the bus, Sanha finished the last of his muffin before stuffing the wrapper into his pocket. He let his head fall against the window next to him, his eyes watching but not seeing the shops pass by as they steadily moved towards Hongdae. He only just registered the sight of a young man running for the bus, his arm waving frantically above his head. He’d probably overslept too. His hair was tousled and windswept – handsome, Sanha thought silently, trying not to openly stare.

“Thanks,” the man panted as he climbed onto the bus and tapped his t-money card.

Sanha felt the icy fire of panic sink into his stomach.

It was Rocky.

He would’ve given anything to evaporate – anything to simply sink through the window his forehead was pressed against as he closed his eyes and prayed Rocky wouldn’t see him. He hugged his backpack closer to his chest and cursed the fact that the super hero buttons he kept pinned to the fabric always drew eyes. Unable to help it, Sanha glanced up long enough to find where Rocky was. Just as Sanha found the dancer’s elegant cheekbone, Rocky turned back towards him and met his eyes. Sanha’s heart flipped upside down and shot into his throat. He swiftly turned away and pressed against the window.

He was over reacting, Sanha told himself – Rocky wouldn’t recognize him. He’d only seen him briefly that one night, and it had been several weeks ago. If anything, Rocky should hate him and walk away from him. And yet, Sanha still wanted to look – he still wanted to peer out of the corner of his eye towards the dancer who looked just as good in uniform casuals as he did in hip-hop attire.

He felt the seat next to him shift, and Sanha immediately knew who had sat down. The bus started to move again, and they continued towards Hongdae in a manner that was too fast and also far too slow. He clutched his bag tighter to his chest, not daring to breathe in fear that his heart might jump out of chest and fly somewhere he’d never catch it again.

He snuck a glance at Rocky from over the top of his backpack, trying to make it look like he was trying to nap rather than peek. His cover was immediately blown – Rocky was pretending to scroll through his Twitter and had looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Sanha swiftly hid his face once more, his fingers curling into the fabric of his backpack as he decided that was it – he wouldn’t look again. Not only would he make it easier for Rocky to recognize him as the person who had fled Itaewon, it would only make it more obvious that he had a crush. It already felt like he had a giant neon sign hanging over his head proclaiming his homosexuality to the world. He might as well scream it to the entire bus while he was at it.

The seat next to him moved again. Sanha froze when a piece of paper abruptly slipped into the crook of his arm. He didn’t move, not daring to look up until he heard the bus door hiss open and close once more. Rocky had departed and was running down the street with his backpack over one shoulder. He turned right down a side street as the bus passed him and vanished from sight.

With trembling fingers, he fumbled for the small folded paper that had nearly fallen when he lifted his head.

_Shall we meet for lunch? M. H. ♥_

The writing was neat and crisp, bearing only the slightest wobble from the movements of the bus. There was a time and an address beneath the message, and the tiny heart beside the English letter initials left no questions regarding the note’s intentions. A messy phone number had been hastily scribbled beneath the address, possibly because Rocky had been approaching his stop with little time left to finish the note. Sanha felt his heart slip back into his throat as he read the message over enough times that the words began to lose meaning.

Looking up from the note, Sanha hastily scrambled for the bus cord, yanking on it just in time to arrive at his stop. The paper crumpled in his fist, and he felt bad for ruining it, but he was terrified of it falling out of his pocket – or just as bad, someone seeing that he’d been invited out for lunch by another man.

He was sitting in his first class of the day when he realized he’d been asked out by _Rocky_. Sanha’s head spun sideways, and he pressed his forehead into his backpack once more, the crumpled paper frightengly heavy in his palm. _Rocky_ had looked at him, and instead of seeing an awkward, panicked gay, he saw someone he wanted to eat lunch with. _Rocky_ had risked his dignity to drop a phone number and a date invite when he didn’t even know for certain that Sanha even liked men. Sure, maybe he’d been a little obvious on the bus, but Rocky would’ve merely had a hunch to go on. Even when his high school crush had come off as bisexual at best, Sanha never had the guts to confess or ask him on a date.

Rocky was so, so brave. Sanha admired him even more for it. He lovingly unfolded the note, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as he could. The blue ink had smudged just a little in Sanha’s sweaty palm, but it was still legible.

_Shall we meet for lunch? M. H. ♥_

Sanha hid a smile in the strap of his backpack as he tucked the note safely inside his wallet. M. H... He wondered if the initials were a hint to Rocky’s real name.

It took a lot to keep himself focused on his classes that morning. The note in his wallet lingered at the edge of his mind, and he had to resist the urge to remove it to take another look to make sure it wasn’t just some dream he’d been having on his way to school. The neon sign felt heavier than ever, even if he knew nobody in his class cared enough to pay attention to Sanha’s fidgeting. They were too busy taking notes.

The professor packed up his computer, and Sanha fumbled with the zippers on his backpack. He was halfway through inputting the address into his phone’s map when he froze. The note trembled in his fingers. He was doing this, he realized – he was accepting Rocky’s invite and meeting him for lunch. He’d never been on a date with another boy before.

Taking another breath, Sanha finished off the address. It wasn’t far from the university. Starting to walk, he tried to shake off the neon sign that now read ‘ _going on a date with a man_ ’. He distracted himself by paying attention to the street signs. _Nobody cares,_ he tried to tell himself. Nobody was watching him. He wanted to do this – he always had. He would be more like Rocky from now on.

The address led him to a three-story building with several retail shops stretching above the street. Sanha swallowed nervously, double checking the address and cross referencing it with the one on the note just to make sure. This was the place, he realized. Sanha had expected a restaurant, not the storefront of _Parkstro Music_. Perhaps the whole thing was a dud – maybe he’d messed up by thinking Rocky had given him a real address. He’d gotten excited for nothing.

The scribbled phone number looked tempting, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t tell if one of the numbers was a two or a seven – and one of the sixes could’ve passed for an eight on a bad day. He stuffed the useless note into his pocket and let his shoulder’s slump. He’d been about to start the slog back to the university cafeteria when he caught sight of the display next to the door.

A vinyl reading _Musical Instruments – Classical, Modern, Electronic_ was pressed to the inside of the window. A beautiful acoustic guitar sat on a display stand, the lacquer gleaming in the sunlight. Sanha felt a longing in his chest. He’d needed the space for a second bookshelf, and he’d put his guitar away at the back of his closet. He’d barely had time to play since he started university.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped into the shop, moving towards the window to get a closer look at the guitar. The price tag was hefty, but if Sanha knew quality, this was certainly it. His fingers ached to touch the strings.

“Anything I can help you wi—”

Sanha turned just as the stack of thin musical arrangement books tumbled out of the shopkeeper’s arms. He just barely managed to catch an armful on instinct before they hit the ground, but a moment later, Sanha dropped them just as fast.

It was Rocky. His expression reflected how Sanha felt accurately enough that he wondered if he was looking in a mirror.

Rocky recovered first, bending down to pick up the fallen books with a rushed apology. His face burning fiercely, Sanha crouched down to pick up the ones he’d dropped and pressed them into the growing pile. Rocky picked up the books, arranging them neatly before regaining more dignity than Sanha felt he had left. The only reason he wasn’t bolting like he had in Itaewon was simply because it felt like his feet had been cemented to the floor.

“Give me a minute, okay?” Rocky smiled, and Sanha felt his heart flip in his chest once more as he nodded numbly. He brushed past him, and Sanha tried to steady his breathing. Maybe he was imagining it. Was Rocky just as nervous as he was?

He turned around to watch Rocky retreat to another part of the store, Sanha tried not to watch his biceps beneath his loose t-shirt as he sorted the music books into shelves in the classical instrument section. His heart racing, Sanha gravitated towards the shelf of guitar tabs and flipped one open for a simple distraction. It wasn’t enough. His eyes kept darting over to Rocky. A second worker had appeared and was laughing at something as she helped put the books away. Sanha stared at the tab for a G chord in a rock song he’d already forgotten the name of. He tried to focus on finger positions rather than the distant sound of Rocky’s co-worker talking about a bad Liszt arrangement. He didn’t notice the conversation had gone quiet until a voice spoke up right next to him.

“Do you play?”

Sanha jumped, nearly dropping the guitar book before he was pushing it hastily back onto the shelf. “Yes—I mean—no—I used to—” he stammered, holding onto the book long enough to make sure his hand wouldn’t shake when he removed it.

“Why’d you stop...?” Rocky asked.

“Just...Just school. I don’t have time anymore.” Sanha admitted.

Rocky smiled in understanding, though It looked sad enough that Sanha wished he’d been able to say ‘yes’.

“You should pick it up again soon,” Rocky encouraged. “Or you might forget everything.”

“Yeah, I...I’ll try.” Sanha’s heart skipped as he realized he might actually keep that promise.

Rocky’s smile brightened, and he wrapped his jacket around himself. “Good. Shall we go...?”

Sanha swallowed nervously and nodded his head, following Rocky out of the music shop. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanha could’ve sworn Rocky’s co-worker was watching them leave with a broad grin on her face. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the neck of his jacket.

Rocky had chosen a nice place – one that was just crowded enough to be popular, but not nearly enough that they were forced to wait longer than five minutes for a table. The amount of people made Sanha frightened – because what if they saw the aforementioned neon sign that now read quite plainly ‘ _gay men on a date’_? But as Sanha collected the menu from the waitress, he realized they weren’t the only pair of men sitting at tables.

 _Right,_ Sanha berated his stress addled mind. Friends and co-workers went out for lunch together all the time. There was no reason for anyone to assume this was a date. Even if they noticed Sanha and Rocky sitting together, they were too engrossed in their own noisy conversations to care. He felt himself slowly begin to relax.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you would come,” Rocky said after they’d ordered and handed off their menu’s once more.

 _Why wouldn’t I...?_ Sanha almost said, but then remembered Rocky didn’t know he was gay.

“I almost didn’t,” Sanha admitted, bowing his head slightly as he felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

Rocky laughed and looked away for a moment, picking up the water jug and pouring Sanha a glass. “I’m glad you did.”

Sanha chewed the inside of his lip, nearly spilling water all over the table when he returned the favour and set the jug aside. “I thought the address was wrong. I only came in because I saw the guitar.”

“I’m glad Jinwoo changed the display this morning, then,” Rocky pushed a pair of chopsticks and a spoon wrapped in a napkin towards Sanha. “But you could’ve called the phone number if you were confused.”

“I couldn’t read it,” he fumbled for the note in his pocket and held it out for Rocky to see. He was self conscious of the obvious crinkles in the paper. “Is that a two or a seven?”

“It’s a seven,” Rocky chortled. “Sorry, I almost missed my stop.”

The waitress returned with a tray of banchan and Sanha quickly stuffed the note out of sight. Suddenly starving, he was quick to dig in to the dishes, tasting them one at a time. Rocky’s chopsticks collided with his as they both reached for the same piece of kimchi, and Sanha just barely stifled a laugh.

“My name’s Minhyuk,” Rocky said, setting down his chopsticks.

 _Minhyuk._ He wasn’t just Rocky the street dancer anymore – he was Minhyuk.

“I’m Sanha,” he replied.

Minhyuk nodded and smiled warmly.

The food was delicious enough that they scarcely had time to talk between bites. They talked about everything and nothing. Sanha talked about his classes and how frustrating they were now that he was in their senior year, and Minhyuk talked about his family’s music shop, which Sanha thought was infinitely more interesting than classroom drama.

 _Parkstro_ , as it turned out, was a forced pun created by Minhyuk’s grandfather when he opted to combine their family name _Park_ with the word _Maestro_. They’d initially only sold classical instruments and provided piano tuning and repair services, but had expanded with the eras and now sold DJ equipment and speaker systems alongside the classical instruments they’d started with. Music, Minhyuk confirmed, was a long-standing tradition within his family. Sanha wished he could say the same. His family had a long-standing tradition of being accountants for companies that always seemed to be in the red.

Far too soon, Minhyuk checked his phone and gave Sanha a regretful smile. “I have to get back to the shop so my brother can take his break. If you don’t have class for a little while, you can hang out for a bit if you want.”

“No, I...really should get back to the university.” Sanha said, fishing in his wallet for enough change to pay for his share of the meal. He had an hour before his next class, which was plenty of time to spend with Minhyuk in the meanwhile, but Sanha knew deep down that he would lose track of time if he hung out in the music shop. If it wasn’t Minhyuk distracting him, it would certainly be the guitar in the window. It was probably the most mature decision he’d made in his three and a half years of university.

Yet, as Sanha waved farewell to Minhyuk outside of _Parkstro Music_ , he felt a distinct ache in his chest along side the nervous hum of the ever-present neon sign.

‘ _Has a crush on a man_ ’.

 

...

 

_From: Minhyuk – Sanha ♥_

_From: Minhyuk – Sanha Sanha Sanhaaaaaa ♥♥♥_

Sanha felt his cheeks grow hot as he hid his cellphone beneath his desk. He glanced around nervously as though his classmates were all hovering over his shoulder, reading the obvious signs of affection and judging him. Of course, there was nobody, but Sanha still felt a thousand eyes on him as he stared at the little pink hearts next to demanding repetitions of his name. He hid a smile in the collar of his sweater

_To: Minhyuk – Sorry, I’m in class_

_From: Minhyuk – I figured, but I want to meet for lunch again. 12:30?_

Sanha’s heart skipped a few beats. _12:30 works,_ he typed back.

It was difficult to focus for the remainder of his class. It had been almost a week since he’d last seen Minhyuk, even if texting him had become part of his evening routine. Between power point slides, Sanha found himself texting him beneath his desk as they discussed restaurant options. They finally settled on a ramen shop a few blocks from _Parkstro_ after deciding it was definitely cold enough for soup.

Packing up his books, Sanha grinned at the _make sure you wear a scarf ♥_ message that slid onto his screen.

_To: Minhyuk – Okay. I’m on my way ♥_

Sanha hesitated only a moment, staring at the heart. He held his breath before pressing send and a sharp, giddy feeling made him bounce on his toes. He ducked his head in embarrassment as a few of his classmates glanced his way. He wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his cheeks.

_From: Minhyuk – ♥♥♥_

Sanha found himself humming, his bag bouncing against his back. Though the neon sign still hung over his head, it felt less burdensome today. Perhaps it was because his heart had grown wings. It was bouncing around his chest like petals in the wind. He didn’t hesitate to step into _Parkstro_ this time, the jingling bell making him smile as he glanced around in search of Minhyuk. It didn’t take long to find him, his voice slipping through the near-quiet shop as he spoke to a customer in the speaker section.

Sanha smiled and wandered over to the shelf of guitar tabs, taking his time to select a book this time. He found one of one of his favourite solo artists and flipped the book open. His fingers itched quietly as he looked over the tabs, just able to hear the sound of the chords in his mind as he read them alongside the familiar lyrics.

He was halfway through the book when Minhyuk closed a deal on a speaker system and helped the customer bring it out to their car. He grinned over at Sanha and stepped over to peer at the book he was reading.

“Does this mean you’re playing again?” He asked.

“No,” Sanha admitted with a small pout. “I meant to, but I have a test coming.”

“Ah,” Minhyuk nodded. “Well, if you meant to, that’s better than not wanting to, right?”

“Yeah,” Sanha laughed softly, folding up the book and placing it neatly back onto the shelf.

“Minhyuk—Minhyuk—!” A voice called, making them both start slightly as one of Minhyuk’s coworkers ran from the back, his jacket clutched over his shoulder in one hand and his cellphone in the other. He let out a relieved sigh and swept over. “Thank god you’re still here—the school called. Mina threw up. I have to go get her—mom’s making stock, she can’t leave the house.”

“Ah—go, then,” Minhyuk gestured to the door, and the man nodded and swiftly exited, barely zipping up his jacket before he was out the door. “Sorry, Sanha—We’ll have to postpone lunch...I hope you still have time...? Jinwoo probably won’t be back for at least half an hour...”

“Ah—yes—my next class isn’t until three.” Sanha’s growling stomach didn’t want to wait, but he did have time to stick around.

Minhyuk sighed in relief, nodding his head. “Good...I’m really sorry.”

“Family emergency...?” Sanha smiled. “Is Mina your sister?”

“My niece, actually – Jinwoo’s daughter,” Minhyuk laughed lightly and shrugged. “I have to go cover his section. Maybe you can use this spare time to pick up a guitar?” He winked cheekily before weaving back through the store shelves.

Sanha laughed quietly to himself and fished out another tab book. The guitars were certainly tempting, but it was tempered by the reality that it really had been a long time since he’d played. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by fumbling chords. Someone as talented as Minhyuk deserved a quality performance rather than a sloppy one.

Jinwoo didn’t return to the shop for almost an hour. By then, Sanha had gotten bored of the guitar books and had wandered over to watch Minhyuk dust complicated looking turntables with a fine cloth. Though Sanha had been raised on a strict _look-don’t-touch_ policy when it came to expensive equipment, he found himself unable to resist pushing slides up and down on one of the soundboards to listen to how they altered the rhythms and tones in the music.

“With practice, you’d make a fair DJ,” Jinwoo said abruptly, making Sanha jump. “People these days love bass and a little reverb goes a long way,” he adjusted some knobs and a very tasteful rhythm slid from the nearby speakers.

“Yah, Jinwoo, Sanha’s going to get back into guitar – don’t sway him to your side,” Minhyuk slapped his brother on the arm with a grin.

“Hey, if we had nothing to remix, every DJ would be out of work,” Jinwoo said with a laugh before holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sanha. I’m Jinwoo, Minhyuk’s brother.”

Sanha smiled and shook his hand, bowing his head politely. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“And now, we’re going for lunch,” Minhyuk said, his arm snaking around Sanha’s waist and guiding him towards the doors.

Sanha felt heat rise in his cheeks as Jinwoo laughed and called a _have fun_ after them. The neon sign was back and brighter than ever, because of course Minhyuk’s brother would probably know this wasn’t just a friendly meeting...

Unless Minhyuk was still in the closet when it came to his family.

As they stepped into the street, Minhyuk released his waist, but his hand boldly closed around Sanha’s and held it with a firm deliberateness that he couldn’t say no to. The neon sign grew heavier, and Sanha’s head spun quietly as he tried to keep his breathing steady. They were drawing eyes now, even if the street wasn’t too crowded. He wanted to hold Minhyuk’s hand – he really did – but one woman crinkled her nose as she passed and turned away to talk loudly on her phone. Sanha distinctly caught the word _disgusting_ before her voice faded from earshot.

“Minhyuk, I’m sorry—I—” He couldn’t finish his sentence before he was pulling his hand back and stuffing it into his pocket, feeling his eyes prickle. He felt like a failure, and he didn’t dare look to see how Minhyuk was feeling. Sanha already had a good idea that he must’ve been disappointed.

“No—don’t be,” Minhyuk pushed his own hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “She was pretty rude.”

Sanha nodded his head slowly, burying his face in his scarf. “How do you do it...?” he asked quietly, hardly realizing he’d spoken until Minhyuk was looking at him.

“Do what?” He asked.

“Endure those...comments...” Sanha didn’t want to describe them – truthfully, this was the closest he’d come to admitting just how insecure he was.

“They’re strangers,” Minhyuk said with a shrug. “I don’t care what they say. They don’t know me, and I’ll likely never see them again. Seoul’s a big place.”

Sanha laughed softly, nodding his head. He was right, of course – why should anyone care what some nameless stranger thought of them? Yet, Sanha remained afraid of persecution and scorn.

Minhyuk tugged him into the ramen shop and sat them down in a more isolated area to fill out their order cards. The silence stretched between them as they waited for their noodles, and Sanha began to feel awkward with his silence. Minhyuk’s elegant hands were folded on the table in front of them, and Sanha wished he could hold them.

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Minhyuk spoke up suddenly as he stirred the egg into his noodles.

Sanha swallowed thickly, popping the yolk with his chopsticks. “My family knows,” he finally said, but his voice was so quiet, he almost expected Minhyuk to ask him to repeat himself.

“That’s a start,” Minhyuk said with a nod. “How did you tell them?”

“At Christmas in my first year of university,” Sanha closed his eyes and set down his chopsticks, feeling nauseous at the memory. “My grandpa was asking me when I was getting a girlfriend, and my aunt was offering to set me up with my cousins’ best friend. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and I was...well...angry...so I...kind of came out. At the dinner table.”

“Damn,” Minhyuk let out a shaky breath, setting down his own chopsticks. “And then what...?”

“Chaos. Pandemonium,” Sanha pressed his face into his hands. “God, it ruined dinner. My grandparents were furious and blamed my mother for raising me soft, and half of my family walked out and never came back. My mom and dad were only upset that I’d done it over dinner and calmed down within a few days.”

“I’m so sorry,” Minhyuk pushed a few napkins over the table towards him and Sanha scooped them up gratefully. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were prickling wetly at the corners.

“My mom and dad talked it out with me when things were settled,” Sanha let out a shaky breath. “My mom had suspected it all along, and my dad had been afraid she was right. It took him some time, but...I think he finally accepted it. I’m an only child, so...I expect it’s a little disappointing for them. They really wanted grandchildren someday, I think.”

Minhyuk nodded, picking up his chopsticks again.

“What about you...?” Sanha asked.

“Everyone knows,” Minhyuk said, lifting some noodles into his spoon. “I told Jinwoo first since we’ve always been close, then my sister...then I told my mom, dad and grandpa at the same time. Dad took it well, my mom thinks it’s a phase and my grandpa tried to disown me and keep me from working in his shop. He’s still furious that I work there. He doesn’t consider me his grandson anymore.”

It was Sanha’s turn to push the napkins towards Minhyuk. Scooping them up, Minhyuk pressed them to his cheek to catch the tear that had fallen from his eye.

“I love my grandpa,” Minhyuk said, letting out a shaky breath. “He taught me violin, and then piano when I had trouble picking it up. He funded my dance lessons and wanted me to study classical ballet and encouraged me when I was the only boy in the class. He came to all of my recitals, and was always in the front row—now he’s just...gone. He hates me.”

Sanha wiped his eyes on his sleeve, reaching out to grab Minhyuk’s hand as comfortingly as he could. Sanha had hated himself for years for coming out the way he did, but Minhyuk’s story was infinitely worse. How could he dance so confidently in Itaewon with something like this at the back of his mind?

“After that, my dad told Jinwoo he needed to keep quiet – my brother’s bi, so he could at least pass for straight, but...well, his now ex-girlfriend asked him to babysit for a weekend and booked a one-way plane ticket to America and vanished and abandoned Mina about four years ago, so Jinwoo’s not interested women anymore. He doesn’t trust them – after that, I don’t know who would.” Minhyuk set down the napkins, his eyes tinged red. “But he loves Mina, so he won’t date someone unless she loves them too. She already knows she might not get another mom, but she’s always asking Jinwoo when she’ll get ‘another daddy’.”

Sanha smiled. “She sounds really sweet.”

“She is...she really is,” Minhyuk laughed, stirring his noodles. “I’m sorry—I took you out for a fun lunch, and we just talked about difficult things.”

Sanha shook his head. “It’s okay. The next one will be twice as fun. I’ll bring my guitar.”

Minhyuk’s smile widened, and he gave Sanha’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Please do.”

 

...

 

The dust covering the old guitar case had Sanha sneezing as he brushed it off. With his tests out of the way, he was making good on his promise to Minhyuk. His old notebooks were spread out across his desk, containing hand-scribbled notes of chords he had to figure out by ear when he couldn’t find a tab, and a battered fingering chart that had been taped back together more than once. Unzipping the case, Sanha held his breath as his guitar came back into his view. He ran his fingers over the strings and body, feeling the smooth wood before he was lifting the instrument out. The strap was a familiar weight on his shoulders, and Sanha smiled as he lifted his pick and positioned his fingers to strike a G chord.

A choked dissonance had Sanha letting out a laugh. Of course, after all of this time, the guitar would’ve gone out of tune. He set the guitar on his bed and dug through the case for the accessories he’d buried in the pockets. The tuner he’d bought years ago needed fresh batteries, and it took him another ten minutes to find a spare. Huffing, Sanha sat on his bed with the guitar, working on steadily tuning the strings back to true. It wasn’t quite so easy. The old strings protested every twist of the tuners. The thinnest string snapped within two, and Sanha threw himself back on the bed, wondering if this entire ordeal was even worth it.

Groping for his cellphone, he stared at the last few texts he’d received from Minhyuk the night before. Soft ‘good night’s, peppered with small pink hearts. Sanha smiled before starting to type a new message.

_To: Minhyuk – Does your store sell guitar strings?_

_From: Minhyuk – Absolutely~!_

_To: Minhyuk – Be there in 10 minutes_

Packing up his guitar again and folding down the broken string so it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper, he slung the instrument over his back and headed out, ignoring the confused stare of his roommate as he apparently wondered when Sanha had gotten a guitar.

He’d forgotten how difficult it was to maneuver a guitar on public transit. People stared as he clutched it in his lap, the neck stretching well above eye-level. Sanha couldn’t bring himself to care, absentmindedly brushing more dust from the black case and wondering if he would ever get all of it off the fabric.

The front door of _Parkstro_ had barely closed before Minhyuk was weaving between the aisles, a broad grin on his face. “You’re playing again?” He asked, excitement in his eyes as he looked between the guitar on his back and Sanha’s face.

“I was going to,” Sanha confirmed. “But the strings are so old one of them broke when I tried to tune it. I might as well just replace them all, since the rest of them will probably break when I start playing.”

“I guess so,” Minhyuk grinned before he pointed over to the guitar section. “Junho will help you out, alright? I don’t know guitars at all.”

“Okay,” Sanha’s heart skipped a handful of beats. “Um...have you had your break yet?”

“No, not for another hour at least,” Minhyuk shrugged. “Why? Did you want to...?”

Sanha nodded, feeling his cheeks warm. “Yeah—let’s go for lunch again.”

Minhyuk’s smile widened as he nodded, and Sanha’s heart leapt up, down and back up again. He’d been the one to ask Minhyuk out this time.

Feeling immensely proud of himself, Sanha tried not to bounce as he made his way over to the guitar section. Being surrounded by soft, acoustic guitar music and rows upon rows of beautiful instruments from simple and inexpensive to luxurious and elegant brought him close enough to earth that he could remember the real reason he’d come to _Parkstro_.

“Can I help you with anything?” A middle-aged man approached him, his heavily calloused fingers revealing just how experienced he was in the art. Sanha figured this must be Junho.

“I need a set of strings,” Sanha said, taking a glance around, trying to spot them before they could be pointed out. “For a classical acoustic.”

He’d forgotten how many different brands there were, but he went for the easy middle ground between cheap and expensive. Sanha didn’t want to skimp on his strings, but he also couldn’t afford to fork over several meals worth of money on a student budget. He was worried, however, when he realized he would likely need a refresher on the proper way to re-string a guitar.

Junho was happy to help, especially since he didn’t seem to have any extra work to do that day. He guided Sanha’s fingers through motions that were distantly familiar, and by the time the sixth and final string was tightened into place, Sanha felt like an expert again. The only downside was that his guitar remained unplayable as the strings stretched, losing tune within minutes of being tightened.

Thanking Junho, Sanha packed his guitar back up and stuffed the old strings into the trash can on his way out from the guitar section. Minhyuk was talking to Jinwoo over by the speakers. Jinwoo was showing him something on his phone and the two of them were trying and failing to stifle laughter behind their fingers.

Minhyuk’s smile brightened as Sanha approached. “All fixed? Are you going to play now?”

“I can’t, the strings are still stretching,” Sanha admitted, immediately feeling regretful when Minhyuk’s smile faded a little. “But I’ll go home and get some practice. It’s been a long time since I played, so I don’t think I’d be very good.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it back up again in no time,” Minhyuk encouraged.

“I hope so,” Sanha’s heart jumped nervously at the thought of potentially forgetting everything. There were techniques he’d learned and motions he’d committed to muscle memory he hadn’t used in years. What if he couldn’t play the guitar at all anymore?

“You can go on break, Minhyuk. I’ll take over,” Jinwoo said, pushing his phone back into his pocket.

“Alright,” Minhyuk’s smile was back as he turned to face Sanha once more. “I’m just going to grab my jacket.”

Left alone with Jinwoo, Sanha couldn’t help but fidget with one of the knobs on one the inactive speakers, feeling it turn smoothly under his fingers. He left it at a perfect mid volume before turning to Jinwoo. “Um...how’s...Mina...? Is she feeling better?”

“Oh, yes, she’s much better,” Jinwoo said brightly. “Though I wish she would tell me when she was sick so I could let her stay home instead of sending her off with a fever, but she doesn’t like missing school.”

Sanha laughed. “She’s a better student than me.”

“And me,” Jinwoo confirmed, shaking his head as he held his phone out towards Sanha. “Here’s a picture of her – she just turned five last month.”

Sanha peered at the photo, which happened to be Jinwoo’s lock and home screen. It was a young girl with sweet cheeks and a smile rivalling her father’s. She was halfway through a large piece of chocolate cake with a few speckles of icing smeared on the side of her mouth. A plastic tiara reading ‘birthday girl’ was perched on her dark hair.

“She’s adorable,” Sanha said with a grin. “She has your smile.”

“People say she looks like me, but others say she doesn’t and she must look like her mom,” Jinwoo shrugged and pocketed the cellphone.

“I’m sorry about...what happened with her mom.” Sanha didn’t know if he was out of place saying it, but Jinwoo’s eyebrows raised a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“Minhyuk told you, I guess?” Jinwoo laughed a little when Sanha nodded. “I try not to worry about it. If she wants to be gone, that’s her choice as long as she doesn’t come back and suddenly start acting like her mother.”

“Does Mina know?”

“She’s known since she was old enough to ask and understand,” Jinwoo confirmed. “My mom told me it’s best to be upfront and honest with her as soon as possible. She was devastated of course, but it was better than lying to her.”

Sanha nodded, unable to help but agree.

“If we’re talking about personal stuff though,” Jinwoo chortled, glancing over his shoulder for a moment to where Minhyuk had vanished to grab his jacket. “How about Minhyuk? Are you sticking around?”

“I...well—” Sanha stuttered, his face suddenly growing hot.

“I’m sorry to be so upfront, it’s just been a long time since he’s had anyone. Seeing him this happy is...” Jinwoo’s sentence trailed off as he lost the words. He shook his head and laughed, giving Sanha’s shoulder a squeeze. “I don’t want to pressure you, but if you like him, I’d love to see you around more often.”

Sanha’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to make a few sounds come out, but even if he could speak, he wouldn’t know what to say. It was so strange to have someone encourage him to date their brother. His parents glossed over it, no longer asking about ‘special someone’s now that he’d come out as gay.

He was saved by Minhyuk returning and slinging an arm around Sanha’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Jinwoo, are you bothering Sanha?”

“Not at all, we were just talking. Enjoy your break,” Jinwoo smiled as though they hadn’t just been discussing the matters of Sanha and Minhyuk’s budding relationship.

“Thanks,” Minhyuk said cheerfully before guiding Sanha out of the store. The cool fall air was a relief on his cheeks, and Sanha hoped it was removing any trace of hot blush that had filled him at Jinwoo’s words. Could he date Minhyuk?

The truth was, he’d never dated before. By the time he was old enough to realize women weren’t appealing, he’d also been old enough to understand that dating a man was an unacceptable course of action. He’d met up with other men in private, maybe shared a kiss or two, before they were fleeing their separate ways, too scared of getting caught to let the relationship progress.

Though he tried not to think too hard about it, Jinwoo’s words were still lingering in his mind. _It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone._ Had Minhyuk dated before? Had it ended badly?

Sanha shook it off. It wasn’t fair to think anyone’s last relationship had been negative. Gay men were few and far between in Korea, and even fewer were willing to take the risk of attracting that negative attention. And yet, Minhyuk danced in Itaewon and drew countless eyes, gay or otherwise. Surely, he could’ve found someone else by now, yet he’d chosen to spend his time with a panicked gay he met on the bus.

“Sanha...?”

Startled, Sanha looked over at Minhyuk, realizing he’d probably been trying to get his attention for a noticeably long time.

“Sorry...what did you say...?” Sanha felt his face heating up again and pulled his scarf higher on his face.

Minhyuk was silent for a moment, his dark eyes observant before he’d turned away again. “I was going to suggest that ramen place again. What did Jinwoo say to you?”

“Nothing, really – don’t worry about it,” Sanha tried to smile, but then remembered half of his face was still obstructed by the scarf. “Ramen sounds good.”

Minhyuk looked doubtful, but he nodded his head anyway, turning the corner to take them down to the ramen shop. “If he said anything strange, I’m sorry. He likes to grill people sometimes. I know he can ask awkward questions. It’s only because he’s worried about me.”

“It’s okay,” Sanha promised. “He didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Minhyuk nodded, but he still looked anxious. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, his eyes on the ground as he walked. Sanha wanted to reach out to him and reassure him that things were fine – that Sanha was just lost in his own swirl of thoughts that felt more disorganized than a mixed bowl of bibimbap. Even if he wanted to say something comforting, he was afraid it would all come out wrong. The only clear thing that swirled through his chaotic mind was that he wanted to _try_. He wanted to stop being afraid and give himself a chance at happiness – with Rocky, who he’d admired for years – with Minhyuk, who might suffer the same insecurities Sanha felt on a regular basis and hid them behind Rocky.

Sanha just didn’t know how to do it. Though the neon sign had felt lighter lately, it was still very much there, hovering just above his head and reminding him with heavy jabs that _he was gay and nobody would accept that_.

They were stirring their noodles in nauseating silence when Sanha realized he needed to say something – anything – to salvage this, even if the fix would be as temporary as a bandage.

“Minhyuk, I’m sorry, there’s a lot on my mind,” Sanha said, staring into his bowl. He watched the noodles swirl to a stop, slices of green onion floating to the top.

Minhyuk looked up at him, a small smile curling his lips as he set his chopsticks down. “It’s okay. I just...” he rolled one of his chopsticks beneath his finger absentmindedly before sighing and looking up. “Just promise me something...?”

Though Sanha didn’t usually make promises before knowing what they were, he nodded his head.

“Just promise me you’re not going to run away without a word...that you’ll at least tell me if you don’t want my company anymore.”

Sanha had an abrupt flashback of doing exactly that in Itaewon, and he wondered if Minhyuk knew that had been him. He’d never said anything about it, but the words were too close to the distant yet vivid memory of fleeing Rocky’s invitation. Sanha still hadn’t gone back to Itaewon, even though he’d been spending quite a bit of time with Minhyuk by his side.

“I won’t,” Sanha promised. _Not again,_ he added mentally. Even if Minhyuk didn’t remember him, Sanha did. After everything he knew about Minhyuk, all of the feelings that had slowly built up inside him, turning his back now didn’t feel like an option. He cared too much.

Minhyuk smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sanha watched him pick up his chopsticks once more and start to eat. It was on him now, Sanha realized, turning to his own bowl and lifting noodles into his spoon. If Minhyuk didn’t say it first, Sanha would have to.

It wasn’t until he was home, tuning his guitar’s fresh strings that Sanha realized exactly how he would do it.

 

...

 

Itaewon was noisy. It was the first pleasantly warm night since earlier in the fall, and there were plenty of people taking advantage of it. With both hands wrapped around the strap of his guitar case, Sanha wove through the crowd, searching for the familiar crowd he hadn’t been a part of for several months now. He didn’t even know if Rocky performed this late in the year. Sanha usually stopped coming once his university semester was in full swing.

A cheer echoed down the street, and Sanha’s heart began to race. He picked up the pace, dodging couples holding hands and laughing together. Familiar music beat in his chest as he approached the clapping crowd. Standing on his toes, Sanha easily saw over the heads of the people watching.

Rocky moved easily to the beat, wearing an open jacket over a tight tank top along with tight jeans decorated with zippers. He looked like an idol as he danced, and apparently the crowd thought so too, their cellphones winking back at Sanha as they filmed each and every move. Opposite to Sanha, Jinwoo was crouched near the front with a video camera. The mystery of who filmed for Rocky’s Instagram was solved.

Swallowing, Sanha removed the strap of his guitar case and began to unzip it. Nearby, a few people turned to frown curiously at him, but Sanha did his best to ignore it and drew the guitar strap over his shoulders. He only hoped his guitar had stayed in tune for the trip, needing to gently play an open chord to make sure everything was set.

His fingertips ached as he pressed them against the frets, but his hands were quick to find the chords he needed. Just like Minhyuk had said, he’d relearned guitar in no time. He still fumbled frets, and the callouses on his fingers had softened enough that the strings caused him pain if he played too long, but he could play well enough that he was confident.

He waited for a break in the music and listened for the applause to die down. Now or never, he told himself. He’d be okay. These people loved Rocky, the gay street dancer. Why not Sanha, the gay guitarist?

In the moment of silence, he’d been waiting for, Sanha’s music echoed louder than he expected in the Itaewon streets. A few people jumped and turned in surprise as Sanha plucked a melody and for a brief moment, Rocky’s next song started before it was abruptly muted.

The crowd parted as Sanha approached, and Rocky’s startled expression came into view. There was recognition, and for a moment, Sanha saw the confident mask of Rocky dissolved into the young, worried one of Minhyuk. Jinwoo’s camera turned towards Sanha, and he gave him a wink as the crowd followed suit. Sanha was on a hundred phone cameras in Itaewon, in the presence of the popular homosexual street dancer. If there was a time to run, it was now.

But Sanha didn’t run. He played louder, the familiar tune of a romantic song he knew people would recognize. Minhyuk certainly did from the way he began to smile as he watched Sanha’s fingers pick at his guitar.

As he added his voice to the song, Minhyuk transformed back into Rocky and began to dance. He’d dropped his hip-hop style and adopted the elegant grace of interpretive ballet, his movements rising and falling with the song’s natural crescendos and smooth transitions. The crowd was silent aside from their joyful smiles and near-silent noises of awe.

Rocky’s dance ended as Sanha plucked the final chords of the song and smiled. The applause nearly had him crying, the heat rising in his cheeks again as he realized what he’d done. It was overwhelming, and he wanted to flee and hide at the nearest bus stop and fade back into anonymity. Minhyuk stood in front him, his smile blinding as he held out his hand – the silent invitation Sanha had received so long ago. This time, he took it and was swiftly pulled into a tight hug. It made him feel secure and also terribly frightened, but the neon sign was easier to ignore when he was in a safe space. Minhyuk smelled like sweat and cologne, and Sanha allowed his eyes to fall closed, ignoring the questioning crowd and sweet cooing surrounding him.

“Let’s go for a walk when you’re done,” Sanha said quietly into Minyuk’s shoulder.

“Sure,” Minhyuk agreed with a nod. “Let me do one more song.”

Sanha nodded, letting Minhyuk step back into his ring of fans. Jinwoo beckoned him over with a grin, lifting up his video camera as the music started once more.

There was fire in Rocky’s his movements now, and Sanha didn’t miss the way his eyes darted over to where he was more than once. It made his heart skip a thousand beats, and Sanha wondered if this dance was for him and not just because he wanted to please the eyes of his fans. It made it difficult to look away long enough to pack up his guitar.

As Rocky wrapped up his final song, he bowed to the ring of cellphones and shook several hands. The crowd was slow to disperse as Rocky became Minhyuk once more, slow hands packing up the equipment. Sanha zipped up his guitar case and stepped in to help with carrying the cables. A few fans lingered with cellphones, a pair of girls giggling behind their fingers as they filmed Sanha. He blushed and hid his face.

“Jinwoo’s going to pull his car around,” Minhyuk said quietly, taking looped cable Sanha handed to him and taping it into shape. “We’ll take all of this back to our place and then we’ll go for a walk, alright?”

Sanha nodded his head, looping a second cable around his arm. He could feel the questioning gazes of what remained of the crowd and wished they would just leave. The neon sign blazed, fed power by their unasked questions. Sanha was a stranger to them, yet he had joined Minhyuk’s circle with a guitar and was helping him pack. They knew, even if Sanha hadn’t acknowledged it, that there was something a little more there. They knew Sanha wasn’t just a fan.

Jinwoo’s car parked on the curb in front of them, and Sanha helped load the trunk before ducking into the back seat. He let out a sigh of relief as he ducked down out of sight, glad to be away from the whispers and silent questions.

“Are you okay?” Minhyuk asked, peering over the passenger’s seat.

“Y-Yeah,” Sanha stammered, sitting up straight again as Jinwoo climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve played in public. I’m a little jittery,” he laughed weakly, distracting himself by buckling his seatbelt.

“You did great,” Jinwoo said, his smile bright. “Everyone loved you.”

“How did you know where to find me...?” Minhyuk suddenly asked, looking back over the seat. “I never told you I was a dancer in Itaewon...”

 _He doesn’t remember_ , Sanha thought numbly. Perhaps it was for the better. Minhyuk was able to get a different impression of him, starting with the shy boy on the bus. But Sanha felt like he’d be skipping out on a part of his life if he pretended it never happened. Even if Minhyuk didn’t recognize him, perhaps he did still remember the frightened boy he once was.

Though Minhyuk’s eyes remained questioning, he didn’t push Sanha to answer when he remained silent. He was grateful for it. As much as he liked Jinwoo, he wanted to choose his next words carefully and have them be only for Minhyuk. He wanted to be brave – to tell the truth, and hold that neon sign higher instead of letting it crush him with his weight.

“You guys can go, I got this,” Jinwoo said as he popped the trunk on the car.

“Are you sure?” Minhyuk hesitated by the passenger door, a small frown on his face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be back before midnight or mom will worry,” Jinwoo grinned and started layering cables around his shoulders.

Minhyuk nodded, turning to Sanha. “I know a park. Let’s go there?”

Sanha nodded, adjusting his guitar strap over his shoulder. Minhyuk smiled and pushed his hands into his pockets before starting to walk. Trailing behind him, he glanced back only for a moment to make sure Jinwoo was faring alright with the two speakers. He had one in each hand, the trunk already closed as he headed inside the apartment complex.

The street was nearly empty, with only a handful of stragglers still lingering around on their way home from their late-night jobs. They were close enough to alone that Sanha knew he could safely speak, yet he found himself inexplicably tongue tied.

“Do you feel like grabbing a snack?” Minhyuk asked, breaking the silence and pointing over to a street vendor whose doors were still open.

“Yes please,” Sanha said with a nod, picking up the pace. Food would be counter productive to speaking, but it would give him enough time to put his thoughts in order.

He handed Minhyuk a few coins to pay for a bowl of tteokbokki before they were retreating to the park that was even more empty than the street. Spearing one of the rice cakes, Sanha watched the spicy sauce drip into the bowl for a moment. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was stiff enough that Sanha knew Minhyuk was waiting, or at least thinking about how to break the silence himself.

“You know...” Sanha finally spoke up, his voice hitching for a moment as Minhyuk looked up at him. The bowl was half empty. It really was now or never. “You asked how I knew where you danced...”

Minhyuk set down the wooden skewer he was using to eat and rubbed his hands together, giving him his full attention. Sanha wished he wouldn’t. It made admitting his thoughts and feelings even more difficult.

“Truth is...I’ve been going to your busker show for years...” Sanha laughed, bowing his head as he looked at the table, not daring to meet Minhyuk’s eyes. “But I always hid my face so I wasn’t seen, so I don’t blame you for not recognizing me...When I saw you on the bus, I knew who you were, I just...”

Minhyuk smiled softly, reaching across the table to catch Sanha’s hand. The gesture made his heart stutter helplessly in his chest, the neon sign blazing like a bonfire above his head despite the lack of people in the park.

“You don’t need to explain,” Minhyuk said, giving his fingers a squeeze. “You’re right – I didn’t know you were someone who came to my performances. I just thought you were shy and cute...and...well...” it was Minhyuk’s turn to blush. He turned his face down towards the table to hide it.

“Truth is, I do hand out my phone number sometimes,” Minhyuk said, recovering and brushing his fingers through his bangs. “The only way I’m going to date is if I put myself out there, let people know I’m gay and see if anyone is interested...I didn’t expect to ever see you again. I either get rude text messages or no response at all. So...it was surprising when you appeared in my shop. It was overwhelming, actually.”

Sanha smiled shyly, picking at a crack in the wood of the picnic table in front of him. “There’s something else I should tell you too, actually...”

Minhyuk looked back up at him, a silent invitation to continue. Sanha’s heart skipped a few beats as their eyes met for the briefest moment. He let out a shaky breath.

“A few weeks before we met on the bus...do you remember someone running away from your show...?”

Minhyuk frowned for a moment before his eyes widened once more. “The tall one at the back wearing the turtle neck? It was too dark to see much, but...” Minhyuk’s eyes scanned Sanha’s face before he was letting out another laugh, his fingers squeezing Sanha’s. “Are you telling me that was you?”

“I...yeah,” Sanha admitted, his face flushing hot. “I...you invited me to dance, and I ran away like a coward instead of going to talk to you.”

“I thought about him, actually,” Minhyuk said with a hum. “But I don’t consider you cowardly. Shy...that’s what you were that day.”

“No,” Sanha shook his head. “I was a coward. I’m always worried about how people will think of me when they find out I like men. It’s a constant weight on my shoulders and I’m always so scared I’ll get hurt, or worse. I always looked up to you – to Rocky – because he could shout to the world ‘I’m gay and I’m proud’, and I wanted to be like that...so much...”

“Sanha...” Minhyuk let go of his hand to grab one of the unsoiled napkins and pressed it to his face. Sanha couldn’t help but cry, his shoulders slumping as he let Minhyuk dry as many of the tears as he could, but even he knew it was useless.

“What you did today was brave,” Minhyuk said gently, setting down the napkin when it was too wet to be useful anymore. “Playing your guitar for me in front of all of those people...you really must’ve come a long way between that and running away from me. I’m proud of you.”

“I just...I wanted to show you I could do it too,” Sanha said, wiping his face with his sleeves. “I really, really like you—and—yeah...” he trailed off in a mumble, hiding his face as he dried a few more tears. It felt like a relief to get it out – to finally admit his feelings – to say that he liked another man romantically. He’d never done it before, and the weight of the neon sign slipped just enough that it felt bearable again.

“I like you too, Sanha,” Minhyuk said with a warm smile.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” Sanha said, finally lowering his sleeves but still wanting to hide. “I just...I’m sorry if I’m a bad one.”

“Let’s see,” Minhyuk lifted a hand and raised a finger, ticking off an invisible checklist. “Likes men, check. Cute, check. Likes music, double check. I think you’re everything I could’ve asked for. You’re a walking miracle, Sanha. Where have you been all my life?”

“Hiding in the closet,” Sanha hiccupped, smiling behind his fingers.

“Thank you for coming out of it,” Minhyuk chortled, stretching out both of his hands to hold Sanha’s and sway them back and forth. “I promise I’ll make you happy.”

“You don’t need to promise that,” Sanha felt the heat start to spread down his neck. “You already do.”

 

...

 

“Are you sure about this?” Minhyuk asked, frowning over at him in concern.

Sanha nodded his head, holding a little tighter to Minhyuk’s hand. There was no sense in putting it off – they would find out someday, and Sanha would rather it be sooner than later, that way it would be off his list of worries even if the result was still up in the air. The worst thing that could happen was being permanently ostracised from his childhood home, but Sanha hoped his parents had long since adjusted from his outburst several Christmases ago.

It was spring break, and Sanha had decided on now rather than the coming summer when he wouldn’t have the option of staying at the dorms. One hundred days had flown by faster than he could’ve guessed, and they were steadily creeping towards one hundred and fifty. It was time Sanha’s parents knew.

Unlocking the front door to his house, Sanha led Minhyuk inside. They left their shoes on the landing before stepping inside.

“Oh,” Sanha’s mother paused, a kimchi dish in her hand as she hovered over the kitchen table. “Sanha, this is...?”

“Where’s dad?” Sanha asked, very conscious of Minhyuk’s hot fingers laced between his own.

“He’s changing – he just got home from work.” Sanha’s mother’s eyes darted down to their clasped hands. There was a thinness to her mouth that suggested she knew exactly what was about to be said. Sanha had only mentioned he was bringing someone else over for dinner tonight. “Who’s this, Sanha?”

“This is Minhyuk,” Sanha replied. His mother raised an expectant eyebrow. Sanha had hoped to announce it to both of his parents at the same time, but there was an urgency that suggested maybe it would be better if only his mom knew right now. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Though the tension rang through the air like a bell, Sanha’s mother relaxed, her eyes darting over to the bedroom door for a moment before she was approaching them both. There was conflict in her expression, but also a softness Sanha couldn’t help but love. He let go of Minhyuk’s hand and pressed himself into his mother’s arms, feeling exceptionally small, even though he was half a foot taller than she was.

“I will need time,” she said quietly. “But if you are happy, then I will try to be too. Tell your father another day...okay?”

“Okay, mom,” Sanha mumbled, hiding his face in her shoulder. He felt Minhyuk’s hand gently pat his back. This could’ve gone worse. It was a relief that it hadn’t.

“I’ve offered Sanha a job in my family’s business,” Minhyuk said, just as Sanha’s father emerged from the bedroom. It was so impeccably timed, Sanha wondered if he’d planned this announcement as a backup. “So, consider me a friend and also a co-worker. He’s really good at guitar, you know?”

“He is,” Sanha’s mother confirmed, holding her son’s cheek between her hands. “When did you start playing again? You need to play for me again soon...I miss hearing you practice.”

“A job already...I’m proud of you,” Sanha’s father approached to ruffle his hair, a grin on his face before he turned to Minhyuk. “How long has the business been open...?”

“Since my grandfather opened it. My father’s the manager right now, but he’s been impressed with everything Sanha can do,” Minhyuk said confidently, falling into the role of co-worker, friend and secret boyfriend as though he was born for it. Sanha supposed he was. Minhyuk couldn’t always be open to his truth either, but he was better at obscuring that neon sign than Sanha was. It was another reason to admire him.

Before leaving for the night, Sanha’s mother caught them at the front door. She pressed a kiss to Sanha’s cheek and offered Minhyuk a warm hug.

“He’s very nice,” she said in an undertone, giving Sanha’s cheek another kiss. “Come home again soon, okay?”

Sanha nodded, giving her one last hug before retreating out the door with Minhyuk, keeping his hands firmly wedged in his pockets in case of any prying eyes. Neighbours could gossip more than Sanha was prepared for.

“That wasn’t terrible,” Minhyuk said with a bright smile, sighing in satisfaction. “Your mom will be alright.”

“I hope so,” Sanha laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head. “I guess your parents are next...?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk nodded grimly. “Sooner rather than later, right?”

Sanha smiled and reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here.”

Minhyuk smiled, leaning over to rest his cheek on the top of Sanha’s head. “I know you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Let's write something soft and fluffy and loving and cute and not put angst in it!  
> Me:  
> Me:  
> Me: Oops.
> 
> Also shout out if you were at ASTRO's New York (aka Newark) show! It was an absolute blast, and if you have yet to see ASTRO in concert, I send you the blessings that you will get to go to one soon uwu/ <3


End file.
